


Chilled

by Kittie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bottom Cullen, Established Relationship, F/M, Porn With Plot, This is such a cliche but I love it, sub!cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittie/pseuds/Kittie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Josephine get snowed in while visiting Ferelden. </p><p>Tumblr request, pretty much porn with plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chilled

A simple retreat had been made once he saw the tremble of her frame, it’s hard to deny he isn’t cold either but he worries-- he’s built for this. Born and bred in the harsh winters that make themselves home in the Ferelden but she is used to the warmth and spice of Antiva. This cannot be pleasant and he offers her an out; knowledge that his family holds a small cabin on this land. Acreage owned by his parents until the blight, Mia holds the deed but allows him to keep it. A wedding present after expressing the fact Cullen needed the space more than she did.

One cabin of the man that would soon cover the land. His place for Templars that needed the regime and stability of a life not held in Chantry hands as they were weaned off of the lyrium that stole their lives from their fingers. There’s pride that wells in his chest as the sight of the main cabin where he would reside when he wasn’t with his wife in Antiva. 

"We’re here." He announces with a louder tone than he should but the wind has picked up and he’ll feel better once Josephine is inside and not left to freeze against the snow that turns to ice. She seems utterly excited to see the cabin, Cullen breathes out a sigh of relief. She knows, vaguely, what he plans but he figures she more excited about the warmth of a fireplace than to feel pride about anything else. 

Cullen jumps off his horse, assisting with helping his wife from the other. He takes charge of pulling the horses to stable as Josephine steps all too readily into the cabin to get the fireplace started. Vaguely, he wonders if there’s any furniture within the room beyond a bed and furs.

He steps within the cabin, locking the door in place. Three inches of snow has fallen and doesn’t look as if it will stop anytime soon. Packs they brought with them that held supplies were placed on the table. Smaller rations than what he’s become used to in Antiva ( whatever he could easily get down that didn’t bother his stomach ) but it should last them a week at least. overzealous packing on Josephine’s part might be their saving grace. 

"It isn’t much but--" Cullen pauses in his words, glancing at the view that takes his breath away. Josephine is haloed by the light of the fire that crackles so wonderfully in front of her. His own feet pull him towards the alluring warmth that radiates from what’s she’s started, “How are you feeling?" The blond asks as he sinks to reside next to her. His armor taken off when the freezing bit of metal had accidentally brushed against exposed skin enough to burn. 

He asks, she answers. There’s a comfortable silence between them as the fire crackles and yet-- Josie still shivers. Cullen frowns as he pulls her closer ( he’s heard it through good authority that he radiates heat ) but still, that doesn’t seem like enough. 

However, he certainly feels warmth flushing his face as she begins to remove the heavier of her clothing. He realizes that most of it is damp from fallen snow-- he rushes to assist her, cursing himself for not remotely thinking about that. His mind had slowed down a tad, a feeling he’ll accredit to letting himself stay in the stables too long. At least he remembered to take off his boots before sitting on the fur they share together. He should have been more aware—but it’s hard when he attention is so readily taken as is his breath with a single smile that graces her features. 

Clothes are shed, Cullen picks them up to find a place to hang them to dry-- or would if Josephine hadn’t pressed against his side as his now naked hands twitched with a want to wrap himself around her and never let her go. Not when she tilts her head and reaches up for a kiss that makes his heart soar; heat spreading through his-- oh. Oh. It is not uncommon for those left in the freezing clutches of Ferelden to find other means of creating heat. He’d heard, once upon a time, that intercourse could certainly bring the body back to a healthy temperature as well as righting the humors within their bodies. Therefore, he kisses back. Lips sliding over her own as her hand moves to grasp the hair against the base of his neck. It’s getting too long for his taste but if she’d ever stop grabbing it in the midst of passion, he might feel more inclined to actually cut it shorter. 

Words aren’t needed, not now. The physical movement is word enough as Cullen decides to take the brunt of the discomfort. He back is against the soft fur that’s only slightly warm as he makes sure his wife has the most space to take his heat as well as the fire’s own that crackles beside him. His breath is sucked from his lungs at the sight above him as she leans to settle herself. Cullen is not too adventurous on his own but Josephine has certainly helped him with his baser wants he’s never felt comfortable sharing with another. His wife, straddling his lap, as he looks up at her with such awe he swear her cheeks turn colors like his own. 

Maker, he loves this woman. 

He loves her-- he can’t keep his hands from the weight of her thighs pulled across his him; little ridges where flesh has stretched far too quickly. The texture of her flesh excites him more than he cares to admit. Even if she looks away, ashamed of her imperfections, he leans up to lean a head against her shoulder; whispering words he’d never feel comfortable uttering in front of another person but would if she would understand her scars mean nothing to him. Not when he has his very on upon his biceps and hips. 

"Josephine..." he murmurs, it’s hard to deny the want to sink within her and let her set the pace for what she’s most comfortable with. Cullen aches but will not take unless offered. She seems content to be held, lips exploring the constellations on her shoulders, tongue tracing lines between stars as her breath hitches against him. The feeling of her chest meeting his own-- the feeling that there is barely an ounce of air between them in comforting. The heat they create, together, leaves him dizzy. Or, perhaps, he’s dizzy but the kisses his wife places against his jaw before capturing his mouth with a tactical advance the man would be proud of if he weren’t chasing her lips and tongue with his own. 

"Maker’s breath, love." he pants when the kiss breaks, her eyes are bright to mirror the excitement of her own. There’s only a moment he has to prepare himself when her lips turn wicked and-- Maker’s breath, she grinds against him and his breath catches as he buries his face against the crook of her neck. He wants so badly to curl into the warmth beneath her astride thighs but she’s content to tease him and he allows her. Cullen puts his faith and hope with her and lets the woman he made vows to in front of the Maker take the lead. She’s always been so much better than him at dealing with carnal desires he once thought shameful; even in their wedding bed. She’s shown him not to be afraid of his wants-- that if he roused in the middle of the night with an ache between his legs that he did not need to leave for their private bath, that he could turn as whisper his need against her and she’s take his problems away. 

"Be good for me. “ She speaks against the shell of his ear and he shakes with the want to pleasure her. Goosebumps break out along his flesh as nails drag, lightly, across the flesh adorning his shoulders. He tries to keep his hips from jerking but she rests so close, the warmth he knows intimately teases him with ever grind of her hips. He’s hard enough to lose sight but she is not wet enough for this to be a simple slip. 

"Forever and always."

Sword roughened fingers slip between them, astride thighs making it easier to find that one place that makes her tighten and nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. He groans out in a mix of pleasure and pain, lips taking to licking and sucking marks against the apex of her neck to shoulder. Josephine’s high collar will hide any marks but he will know they reside there-- the visual representation that she gives herself so completely to him that he’s allowed to mar her flesh ( it’s a gift; he should be allowed to mark because he is hers to bend and break but she allows him to bend and break her ). She gasps and Cullen removes his mouth from the work he’s pressed into her skin, success is in the hitch of her breath and the nail marks that will turn fair flesh red. Lips press together but barely last as his fingers work tight circles against the nerves that send sparks up Josephine's body. 

Breath mingles as she tries to restrain herself from making noise. Hitched sounds and eyes squeezed shut. Josie blurs out in his vision as he plants his forehead against her own, fingers working within the tight circle to grant her the release she so deserves for travelling with him. For humoring his want to see how work was progressing on his land before heading back to Antiva. Maker, he wants her on his mouth but he doubts he could willing make his body move when her thighs tighten around the width of his hips. Her sounds only seem to excite the heat in his blood and he wants-- he wants-- he wants-- The exclamation of her climax sends a shiver down his spine. He feels like a wood poised to snap as he fingers slip further within her to feel if she could be easily prepared for him. 

"May I, m'lady?" His words are slurred but voice has deepened to a rumble in want. He needs so badly he sure he’s trembling-- sweat threatens to roll down his body in an exact opposite of their earlier predicament. A hand pets down the line of his jaw, pressing against the plush flesh of his lips before petting up the scar that bisects. He cannot, truly, see the look that crosses her face but he does feel the over stimulated breath that shudders against his lips as she gives her consent. 

Maker, he wants her so badly it takes restraint to slip only one finger within her to test and work her to a decent stretch before two than three after. Every hitch of her breath sends his body aflame-- sending his back nearly bowing before he feels as if he cannot take a single moment more of this sweet torture, "Please, Josephine-- Love, may I?" The voice that slips through his lips hardly sounds like his own but she is wet around his fingers and he wants with a passion that knows no end. Her hips stutter against his fingers and she lets digits curl around his jaw, blown pupils meeting their mirror within one another. 

"You may, caro." He should be embarrassed about the relieved groan that falls from his lips. Strong hands curl under thighs as he lifts her. It’s not an easy position to maneuver in but damn anything that attempts to keep her body from being flush against his own. It takes works but soon-- ( it feels like an eternity ) he’s sinking into the warm, wet, perfection that makes him nearly moan out in relief. He is not a vocal lover, content to suffer his small deaths in silence but, Maker, the way she cants her hips and takes control of the pace because it becomes quite obvious leverage does not belong to Cullen in this situation--

They hold themselves together, too tight; grasping to keep themselves grounded within one another. At one point, Cullen breaks his silence with soft words of need and Josephine praises him for his truth; his wants poured from his mouth enough to leave him blushing from more than the exertion he feels moments before his body pulls so tight the snap of release is a glorious relief he’s never known ( except he’s known several times over but the feeling is always novel in its purity ). 

The blond comes back to fingers against his scalp, petting him. Soft words of praise makes him feel like he’s done a good job. He basks in the attention, content as a pup that has found the elusive sunbeam to bask in. Josephine presses lips against his own and he allows her to take without question. 

"I love you. “ he whispers against plush lips, taking her breath as his own. 

"I love you. “ She replies as he moves to lay his back across the fur. His shoulders burn where she became overzealous but he minds little. They both need a moment to breathe, her head against his chest, before moving to clean up and seeing if Cullen has the energy to move the bed into the living room to give Josephine the greatest chance to keep warm during the snow storm that rages outside.

 


End file.
